


After

by Cannellia



Category: ACCA13区監察課 | ACCA 13-ku Kansatsuka
Genre: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Introspection, M/M, Please give Nino a hug, Pre-Relationship, Requited Pining, Set during that scene in episode 11, i'm not sure what to tag this as, one (1) kiss, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 03:23:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17418104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cannellia/pseuds/Cannellia
Summary: "Nino, you should stop already."





	After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beanpots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanpots/gifts).



> I binged the entire anime and immediately wrote this in an attempt to calm my feelings at 11pm. I love them so much and I couldn't stop thinking about this happening as soon as I saw the hospital scene...

"Nino, you should stop already."  
  
The words cut through the silence, the noise of the hospital far removed behind the door. Blond locks fall over blue eyes, hiding them.

"You don't exist to serve the Dōwā family."

Jean spoke quietly, but Nino's ears ring like he's shouted.

The bangs part when Jean lifts his head, eyes finding Nino's own—but not before they wander off and settle, just for a second, over the white bandages wrapped around his torso. Nino can almost feel their gaze on his skin before Jean looks back into his eyes.

"Neither Lotta nor I want that."

His expression doesn't change, his bored, unaffected look the same as always—yet, yet, Nino can see the hints of hurt in the crease of his eyebrows, the worried wrinkles around his eyes. He's spent too long observing him, both through the lens of his camera and up close to be unable to read the unreadable in him.  
  
It's funny, in a way. This job, Jean himself and Lotta, it's the core of his being—Nino hasn't once even considered stopping. It was the only way he could stay with his father, at first; then it became a duty bigger than him, a will from above involving too much to shy away from; then it was his father's legacy, for him to carry on; and before he realized it it was all there was to "Nino". Everything he is was constructed for this job, by this job. And when Jean says it, outright and casual, he makes quitting sound as easy as walking through a door.  
  
He would say it, if he had the breath for it. He would say it, if his chest didn't throb with every inhale, even through the painkillers. If he wasn't so tired.  
  
Exhaustion weighs down his limbs, clouds his sight. The loud bang of the two gunshots still rings in his ears. He can tell Jean is there, standing beside his bed, but Jean himself is barely a blurred shadow. He can tell he's still talking to him, but the words seem to seep through his mind—like his blood through Jean's fingers, the stains growing and blooming in red blossoms on the pure white of his disguise like the flowers that make Furawau's pride. He's faintly aware that he's answering something Jean said, of his voice tugging at aching muscles to force clear syllables out, but what he's saying is out of his grasp.  
  
Nino is tired.  
  
It's the first time he and Jean have seen each other face-to-face after he'd told him everything before vanishing back into the shadows, Nino giving way to Crow. He'd remained unseen, repressing the turmoil of emotions deep within his heart, strangling affection with the bare hands of loyalty. But when he'd caught that fatal glimpse of the gun pointed toward Jean, it wasn't loyalty that set him in motion, so fast he was already pushing Jean down before he fully realized he'd started running. It wasn't the fear of losing a member of the royal family that ripped the scream from his lungs, the name echoing just a fraction of a second before the gunshots.

When he'd first heard the name "Jean", Nino thought of his yet still faceless prince.  
  
When he'd first said the name "Jean", an unfamiliar word rolling off his tongue, he saw in front of his eyes his mission.  
  
When he'd shouted the name "Jean" for the last time, a single syllable that contained so much, he feared for his best friend more than for his own life.  
  
"Best friend" was more than everything he'd thought he'd call his prince when he'd first come into the world. "Best friend" was more than he'd ever hoped to get. "Best friend", when he was looking at Jean, didn't feel like enough anymore.  
  
His chest aches, the nerves severed by the bullets bringing to life feelings he'd convinced himself he could ignore.

In a matter of weeks, the routine he'd grown accustomed to despite his best efforts had been shattered. It was only when he'd gone back to watching over Jean from afar, like he'd done for the first fifteen years of his life, that he'd realized how comfortable he'd gotten being close to him over the following fifteen years—and soon enough he was the one getting himself drunk, drowning the sudden crushing loneliness in shots of whiskey. Even dedicating his whole being to his job, to his nation, couldn't fill the void in his heart when he glanced at the bar seat in front of him between two glasses of alcohol and found it empty.  
  
He's so tired.

Jean is still there, a blur at the corner of his eyes, splotches of colors in the vague shape of a person, soiled by a patch of red staining the white of his shirt. The echo of Jean calling his name is still in his ears, the desperate shout of him calling Jean's name still rasping his sore throat. He already has so much on his shoulders, too much to need Nino to add the weight of one more worry—but he's still there. Despite the lies, the repeated breaches of his trust, he's still there. It's more than Nino deserves and, despite what he wishes deep inside him, it's more than he dares to hope for.  
  
A movement catches his eye, catching him off-guard right as he can feel himself starting to drift off. Fear and blood loss have drained him, so much that even the sharp pain every beat of his heart sends through his ribs isn't enough to keep the need to sleep at bay.  
  
The blur that makes up Jean inches closer, edges shifting in and out of focus. Nino blinks, sleepiness turning his lids to lead. He can only manage to keep his eyes half-open to meet Jean's piercing gaze over him before they slide close again.

  
Before he succumbs to the siren song of slumber, a hand brushes back his sweat-dampened bangs.

Jean's lips brush his forehead, and Nino falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I would, and will die for Nino  
> Dedicated to beans for showing me this anime existed!


End file.
